I'm back to wearing my sexy, sexy long johns today. I was getting used to the mid-thirties, I even took a walk yesterday in the out of doors. Friday we had a really interesting and bizarre thunderstorm and now it's snowing again and we're supposed to get 14 inches. Weird, weird, weird. It was a good weekend though, particularly for exercise for which I was rewarded with 174.8 this morning. Slow and steady wins the frustrating as all hell race. Better than nothing, that's what I keep telling myself, better than nothing.
The clothes shopping was pretty horrendous though. I was unprepared in the way that you are when you know you're fatter but you don't really know how fat you are and whoa! then you go shopping and get the dread dressing room clarity(tm). Dressing room clarity syndrome symptoms include thoughts like "wow, the twelve has gotten smaller" "this must be a mislabeled ten" "all the sodium in that yogurt smoothie I had for breakfast must be making me fatter and is certainly only temporary". I did know I was fatter, I was hovering nearer 170 when I bought and zipped and danced in that pair of size tens. Behold the power of 5 extra pounds, its' heart is cold as ice.
That five pounds is probably why I hate all my clothes in the first place. If it wasn't for Old Navy and their 75% off clearance I'd have never considered buying clothes at this stage. I'd be sitting here blissfully in my ignorance, possibly drooling with complacency, and now I have all this stupid reality to think about. Selfish bastards. I really wish I could do all the healthy eating and sweaty exercise and not need the sorry ass self hate for inspiration. I'm just realizing that I lose the most when I genuinely loathe my appearance the most, I'm not so sure I should be inspired that way.